A Fine Mess
by SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: Written based on the Dragon Age Reddit Weekly Writing Prompts: "I thought I smelled something baking... it's late. Why are you baking a pie so late?" and Flour, baked and unbaked pies, embarrassment, blue Gwyneth Surana discovers Alistair's hidden talent.


Gwyneth shuffled towards the Denerim palace kitchen, and her plans for a cup of tea to help her get back to sleep quickly evaporated. The scent of something baking wafted out of the kitchens, but the cooks would definitely be done with the day's baking by now. Why had she left her staff in her rooms? She wrestled one of the swords away from one of the decorative coats of arms on the wall, and crept to the partially open door. Nudging it open wider, Gwyn gawked at the scene before her. A dusting of flour covered the countertops, the floor- _Maker, how did it get on the_ ceiling _?!-_ -and one very embarrassed Alistair, who was surrounded by what appeared to be pies in various stages of baking.

"Um, I can explain?"

"I thought I smelled something baking... it's late. Why are you baking pies so late?"

She propped the sword against the wall and blinked at him owlishly, trying to comprehend why the king, of all people, would have three dozen pies baking.

Alistair grinned sheepishly. "Last week you mentioned the apple pies you'd get sometimes in the Circle. After that, Elissa said she missed Highever apples, and Fergus has sent a few bushels as a present to give to Elissa on Moira's nameday next week, so I thought I'd try my hand at apple pie for the three best ladies in my life."

Gwyn blinked, "Ali? You could barely _cook_ three years ago, how are _you_ able to bake pies?"

"I am _full_ of surprises, Gwyn. Besides, I told you cooking wasn't a talent of mine. When I was a boy, though, Mistress Edella, the baker, would have me help her roll out the pie dough to keep me occupied and out of Lady Isolde's sight." Alistair turned to one of the cooling pies, and cut a slice from it. Placing the steaming slice on a plate, he held it out, "Try this for me?"

Warily, Gwyn took the plate and gave it a delicate sniff, visions of Alistair's 'traditional' lamb and pea stew dancing in her memory. They were quickly banished by the mouth-watering scent of butter, baked apple, cinnamon, and sugar. "Maker, Alistair, _you_ made this?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Gwyn! I think I've done well enough as king that you can have a _little_ faith that I won't muck up everything I touch by now."

"If this tastes as good as it smells, I think your talents would have been wasted in the Wardens, and we should have you baking for any ambassadors who visit from now on."

" _Great_ , like they don't look down their noses at me enough already."

"Their poor taste in royalty is not our failing." Gwyn searched around, realizing she'd never actually seen where the silver was kept. "Forks?"

"Um, one second." Alistair quickly used one of the bread paddles to pull two pies from the oven and place two more in, then crossed the kitchen and dug around in a truly massive chest. He presented the fork to her with a bow and a flourish. "For my dearest lady."

"Thank you, Ser Flour-faced." She tapped the tip of his nose with a smile, leaving a clean spot in the fine dusting that still covered him. A delighted groan left her as she took the first bite. It was perfect.

"I take it that's a good thing?"

Gwyn only nodded at Alistair as she tucked in. He kept an eye on the pies in the ovens and started cleaning up the flour as best he could. When the pies baking seemed done, he would stop sweeping or washing and pull them out and replace them with fresh ones to bake. Eventually they ended up leaning against each other, watching the pies in the ovens.

"Alistair? Gwyneth? It's almost four bells, what in the Maker's name are you two doing in there? Are you in the cheese _again_ , Alistair?" A bleary-eyed Elissa peeped into the kitchens, dark auburn hair in a tumble.

"Liss, what are you doing up?" Gwyn sat up and away from Alistair. Even though Elissa had stated time and again she had no objections to Gwyneth and Alistair's relationship, Gwyn always felt a need to maintain a measure of respect for Alistair's marriage when Elissa was present.

"Moira was fussy and needed a feeding," she paused and took in the rows of pies, and the smears of flour that still dusted parts of the kitchens and her husband. "This is a fine mess, but those pies look delicious. Did you make them, Alistair?"

Alistair turned red. "I might have. Why is everyone so _surprised_ that I can bake?"

"It's good to have surprising talents. I can wiggle my ears and touch my tongue to the tip of my nose." Elissa leaned over the pie with the slice out of it and inhaled. "Oh, Maker, apple pie. I haven't had any since…"

Her eyes went distant, and she pulled her blue dressing gown closer, suppressing a shudder. "It's been a _long_ time. May I?"

Alistair nodded and fetched another plate and fork. Gwyn frowned at Elissa. "You can wiggle your ears and touch your tongue to your nose, you said?"

"I did. Thank you, Alistair." Elissa took the proffered plate from him and happily scooped a piece of crust into her mouth.

"So the last Orlesian ambassador _wasn't_ going mad! You actually were touching your tongue to your nose at him and stopping when he looked at you? And wiggling your ears whenever he talked with you?" Gwyn was aghast, and quite entertained. The previous Orlesian ambassador was an insufferable ponce who had pinched and groped her even after being introduced to her as the Chancellor and Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

"Of course not, Gwyn. He was mad as a hatter, and if he _hadn't_ been sent back for his sanity, I would have been sending him back in pieces for calling you a rabbit to my face." The steely way Elissa said it made both Alistair and Gwyneth take a step back.

Elissa smiled sweetly and held up her empty plate. "May I have another slice, Alistair?"


End file.
